“Life is just a blank slate, what matters most is what you write on it.”
-Christine Frankland
Link to All of the 2019-2020 Posts (Junior Year)
Future Link to All of the 2020-2021 Posts (Senior Year)
Future Link to All of the 2022 Posts (College Freshman)
humanity always plays the main character
5.04.23 . healthy people only give a shit about themselves they promise they love you and they would give you the world if they could but when it really comes down to it no one will every be as important as them their dreams come before friendship they always forget your birthda- and cut you…
The Tides That Stung like a Bullet
This is how I cope with loss. Dedicated to my cousin Ryan < 3 Forever loved, never forgotten. . Remember the day you died? the day God clutched you to his chest as your family wept at his feet? how selfish of him. you had set a new lifting PR that morning but you never…
Dysphoria Tastes like Graham Crackers and Go-Gurts
*Student Choice Piece* . my footprint is a stroke in Earth’s painting a single artwork in her collage just one breath against the nape of her neck; She says nature will take over when our bodies fall her vines twirling around rib cages through eye sockets of skulls that once saw freckles of sunlight in…
All Across the Spectrum
*Acrostic Poem* . Another man tells me what I should do with my body, he says Supporting rainbows is a sin Except I don’t believe in sin or a God who would allow those Xanthic eyes try to change my identity; I’m Unable to hold his lustful gaze As I come to realize Love doesn’t…
I Don’t Like to Bury My Hatchets, I Like to Throw Them on the Ground and Hope They Catch on a Toe
*Prompt: Clear Character Voice* This is what the neighbors saw; a pale white body in pieces and a fifteen year old girl standing over it holding a hatchet. There’s definitely going to be a complaint about this. I don’t know why we had to move into a stupid HOA home anyway. Everything has to be…
This Is Not the Beginning of a Memoir, I Don’t Have Time for That
*Creative Nonfiction Assignment* When asked how many children she had, Mom would point to Father and say, “he has three, I have three and we have five.” After letting the questioner’s baffled face simmer, she would explain how their previous marriages left them each with two children and that I was their only shared child.…
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The Splintered Pencil 